


When The Good Gets Going

by jesuisherve



Category: No Country for Old Men (2007)
Genre: Fucking, Gay Sex, M/M, One Night Stands
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-27
Updated: 2014-04-27
Packaged: 2018-01-21 01:40:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1532975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jesuisherve/pseuds/jesuisherve
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Years later Carson Wells will claim to know Anton Chigurh by sight, but he knows him a little better than that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When The Good Gets Going

_September, 1974_

Carson Wells was drunk. He stumbled into his apartment and tossed his keys into the little bowl he kept near the front door. They missed and clattered across the floor. Carson left them. He was drunk. _Fuck-drunk_. He couldn’t remember where he had heard that term. Maybe he had read it somewhere? He kicked his boots off with some difficulty and his hat toppled off his head. He nudged it off to the side and made his way to his bedroom. He fumbled his belt off. The buckle made a metallic _thunk_ as it hit the floor when he shucked his jeans. His shirt was next. Carson stripped it off and let it fall on top of his puddled jeans. _Fuck-drunk._ Carson was drunk and he was horny. ‘ _A horrible combination_ ,’ he thought to himself. He had struck out at the bar with the girl he tried to pick up. She blew off every one of his attempts to flirt and refused his offers to buy her drinks.

He flopped face down on his bed and let out a deep sigh. His muscles relaxed and he groaned as the tension of the day painfully but satisfyingly fled his body. The room was spinning. Carson closed his eyes and willed the spinning to stop. It did not, so he opened them again and considered getting a glass of water. It would take effort, but it might make him feel better. He forced himself to sit up. The exertion caused a bolt of nausea to shoot down from his head to his stomach. Carson bolted for the bathroom. He vomited in the toilet. He clutched the bowl, cold and smooth to the touch, as he emptied the contents of his stomach. In that moment he was glad that he hadn’t taken the girl home. If he was this drunk she would have surely left the second she heard him retching.

Shaking, Carson fell on his ass with his back against the bathtub. He wiped his mouth with his hand. He took a few breaths, stood, flushed the toilet, and washed his hands and face at the sink. The cold water felt great against his swollen, red eyes. He cupped a hand under the streaming faucet and drank the pooled water. He repeated this three more times before turning the sink off and sitting back down on the floor by the toilet. He was still nauseous and did not want to leave the safety of the bathroom yet.

He closed his eyes and cradled his head in his hands. He was nauseous and drunk and horny. “Now _this_ is the worst combination,” he muttered to himself. As he sheltered in his bathroom, Carson’s mind began to wander. He thought of the impending hangover with a dull feeling of dread, he thought of the job he was going to be starting next week. He thought of who was going to be working with and his cock twitched with vague arousal. He was fuck-drunk and had a bad case of whiskey dick but he was present enough that an erection was possible. Carson pressed the heels of his palms against his closed eyes and rubbed them. They were irritated from vomiting. Next week, Carson was going to be working with Anton Chigurh.

Chigurh was a strange man. Carson had mixed feelings towards him, and was never sure exactly how he was supposed to feel. Their names travelled around the same circles and they were occasionally hired by the same clients to collaborate on jobs.  The first time Carson had worked with Anton Chigurh, they had been hired to track down the ex-wife of a rich business man. She had stolen quite a bit of cash and some bearer bonds from him, and he wanted the valuables back and the ex-wife killed. It was a one-man job, but the client hired both Carson and Chigurh because it was his first hit and he had no idea what to expect. With both men on payroll, Carson spent a lot of time travelling with Chigurh. The man rarely talked, and Carson soon gave up trying to engage him in conversation. Chigurh was particular about how things were done, and Carson picked up on his routines and quirks to avoid conflict.

As their assignment wore on, (the ex-wife had fled the state and they had to track her down. She was smarter than her ex-husband and covered her tracks. It would be a month before they actually found her), Carson picked up the courage to ask one night: _“What’s your deal?”_

_“My deal?” Chirgurh asked, not taking his eyes off the road. They were trundling along a road in an old pick-up truck that Carson had procured days earlier._

_“Yeah, what’s your deal?” Carson reiterated. “Do you have a woman waiting for you somewhere, or something?”_

_Chigurh looked at him then. He turned his head; a slow, deliberate movement, and fixed Carson with his intense eyes. The expression on his face was not quite blank. There was a hint of... not_ contempt _exactly, more like condescension. “No,” Chigurh said and thankfully returned his gaze to the road. Carson’s heart had sped up with anxiety. Chigurh was off-putting, but Carson figured it was because he was so taciturn and they were basically strangers._

_“I was thinking,” Carson ventured again after a period of silence, “we’ve been on the road for a few weeks already and we could do with something to ease tension. When we stop at the next motel, maybe?”_

_“Get to the point,” Chigurh said in a flat, dry tone._

_Carson sucked his teeth in annoyance. He was not used to how direct Chigurh was yet. “We could have sex.”_

_Chigurh didn’t react, which made Carson more uneasy than an angry reaction would have. He didn’t know what team Chigurh played for, or even if he was tolerant of people who were queer. He was gambling here which was unlike him, but Carson had a cocked .45 at his side and was not afraid to use it if he had to. Carson had no qualms about incapacitating Chigurh, bigger paycheck for Carson Wells, but if the other man was down then he’d get laid. Anyway he sliced it Carson saw it as a win/win._

_Chigurh took a hand from the steering wheel and dug into his pocket. He came out with a coin. He passed it to Carson. It was a quarter with the year ‘1967’ stamped on it._

_“Flip it.”_

_“What?”_

_“Flip it.” Chigurh’s voice was firm. “I’ll call it.” Carson flipped the coin, caught it, and slapped it to his knee. He kept it covered with his hand. “Heads,” Chigurh said. Carson lifted his palm to check._

_“Tails,” he intoned._

_Chigurh smiled._

Carson opened his eyes and lifted his head. They had fucked that night when they got to a motel. Carson didn’t know what would have happened if the coin had come up ‘heads’ and he never asked. Small talk and useless questions were not something that Anton Chigurh suffered. Carson thought that if he asked about what would have happened, Chigurh would only give him a sickening smile and ask if it mattered.

That first night Carson topped Chigurh, which he found truly surprising. He had pinned Chigurh as the dominate type but he didn’t complain about it. The sex had been good, although it revealed another set of Chigurh’s particularities.

_They got two different rooms like always. Their expenses were being covered by their client, and Chigurh had expressed his preference for separate rooms. It was an ideal arrangement. Neither of them cared if necessity forced them to share accommodations but they luckily did not have to. Once they were checked in and Carson dropped his stuff in his room, he went to Chigurh’s room two doors down from his. He knocked sharply and waited for Chigurh to let him in._

_Chigurh opened the door and Carson stepped in quickly. Chigurh had taken off his jacket and boots. He looked as imposing as he always did. Nothing about what they were about to do softened his appearance. “So,” Carson said. The word hung in the air. Chigurh began unbuttoning his shirt. Carson jumped to shedding his clothing as well. Nothing else would be said between them until the end._

_Carson had just gotten his belt undone when Chigurh stepped forward and grabbed the back of his head. Their mouths mashed together in a forceful kiss. Carson was surprised but did not let on to it. His hands flew up to bury into Chigurh’s ridiculous hair and he returned the kiss with liveliness to match Chigurh’s. Every movement Anton Chigurh made spoke of precisely controlled power. A voice in the back of Carson’s mind whispered that he wanted to make Chigurh lose some of that control._ ‘But not all of it,’ _the voice said,_ ‘that would end badly.’

 _When they made it to the bed, Carson saw that Chigurh had an unopened condom sitting on the bedside table. They pulled off their jeans and underwear and the clothing was left on the floor. Chigurh grabbed the condom and opened the wrapper. Carson expected him to put it on but instead the man wordlessly rolled it onto his cock._ ‘That’s one way of asking to be fucked,’ _Carson thought. He was okay with that. True to what he knew about Chigurh, it was direct and efficient._

_He fucked Chigurh. He fucked him hard, but Chigurh took it almost silently. This aroused and frustrated Carson. He was moaning and growling and panting, but he couldn’t get Chigurh to make a sound above huffed breaths and low grunts. When Carson came, he cried out and slumped against Chigurh. Sweat was dripping down his face and the strength was slipping from his body. Chigurh’s cock was still hard and erect, he hadn’t come yet. Carson pulled out carefully and took care of the condom. Chigurh sat up on the bed, hand wrapped around his hard dick._

_Carson looked at him questioningly, not courageous enough to ask what Chigurh wanted to do. Carson was not the type to leave if his partner had not gotten off yet. Chigurh stood, planted a hand on Carson’s chest, and pushed him to his knees. He cupped the back of Carson’s head like he had at the beginning of the night when they kissed. Carson knew what he was implying and opened his mouth to take Chigurh’s cock into it._

_After Chigurh came in Carson’s mouth and Carson choked it down, the dark-haired man patted Carson’s cheek. It was more of a light slap than a pat, it stung a little, but Carson received the motion with an odd sense of affection._

_“Out,” Chigurh said as Carson got to his feet. Carson blinked, opened his mouth to ask why, then closed it and gathered his crumpled clothes to dress. Chigurh strode to the bathroom as Carson tugged his jeans on and the door closed with a_ click. _Carson buttoned up his shirt and heard the shower start to run._

_He returned to his room feeling satisfied. He decided to shower in the morning._

It wasn’t so much a relationship as it was an arrangement. Carson and Chigurh did not see each other often, maybe once or twice every few months, but when it was possible they would fuck. It was always simple and uncomplicated. The only rules were no staying the night and no talking. Chigurh didn’t want anything except the physical release of sex and Carson was fine with that. There was nothing about Anton Chigurh that made him want to pursue something outside of meaningless sex. Carson suspected that Chigurh didn’t even enjoy it, that it was just a physical necessity to him. In the moment while they were fucking Chigurh was always involved, but as soon as it was over, Carson had to leave _immediately_ as the other man went to take a shower.

Carson leaned over to heave into the toilet a few more times. Clear liquid drizzled from his mouth and his stomach clenched and hurt.

Years later, Carson will claim to know Chigurh by sight. He will believe that he is the closest the world will ever get to an expert on the human wolf that is Anton Chigurh. Carson will believe that the knowledge will help protect him, make him cautious, because he knows their sexual history sure as fuck won’t deter Chigurh from killing him if he wants to. It’s an understanding that doesn’t bother Carson, because it’s to be expected in their line of work. Don’t make friends in the industry, because ‘friendship’ is simply a euphemism for ‘tolerance’. Carson does not delude himself into thinking that he matters to Chigurh, or that Chigurh is even capable of forming relationships.

Carson takes the good when the going is good, and fucks right off when Chigurh stops going.


End file.
